Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 111414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
“Fuck, I can’t wait to taste you, drink you down. I bet you taste delicious,” he groans before teasing my hand again.
“Touch me, Carson.” I don’t beg or plead, it’s a demand. If he doesn’t touch me, I’m going to do it myself, right here on his couch. At least I know there’s no camera in his private office and the day shift security isn’t getting an eyeful.
There’s no slow progression up my thigh to my center, and Carson doesn’t let go of my hand. But with his other, he dives up my skirt and under my soaked panties, finding my core easily. “Oh, fuck,” he murmurs when he feels how wet I am. “For me?”
“For you,” I confirm. “You drive me crazy. I shouldn’t be doing this, but I can’t stop.”
He taps my clit, a slight punishment for saying I shouldn’t do this when it feels so good, but the sting sends a shiver of pleasure through me. He circles my clit, tapping it again as he presses our interwoven hands over my head. I could get away, but I don’t want to. Not at all. I want more.
I buck my hips, and he slips two fingers inside me instantly, curling them. “Right there? I can feel your walls clenching me tight, wanting me inside you. Is that what you want?”
I make some sort of unintelligible noise that sounds like, “Uhhuhmmm.”
Carson must understand, though, because all at once, he grinds the heel of his hand against my clit, curls his fingers against my inner walls, and squeezes my hand tight. The pressure of it all sends me flying into space, shattering into pieces that will never fit back together the same way.
“Beautiful,” I think I hear his whisper, but maybe I imagine it.
The waves slow, my body and my consciousness crashing back together. “Oh, my God,” I pant.
“You can call me Carson, not God,” he jokes.
I laugh lightly at the stupid joke, unconsciously pushing his fingers out of me. He lifts them to his mouth, licking each one slowly and deliberately. “Delicious. I knew you would be,” he growls, acting like my juices are the most luxurious delicacy he’s ever tasted. “I want more.”
Heat burns my cheeks, and I’d bet I’m turning seven shades of red from his dirty compliment. “I’m never gonna get you to be a ‘good guy’, am I?” I tease back, making sure he knows I’m kidding. Because Carson Steen is a good man, he just has some rough edges that I do not want to file down. At least not for real, because I’m finding I rather enjoy them. “Just a tamed beast?”
“Barely tamed,” he declares shamelessly, stretching his arms out along the back of the couch and spreading his knees wide. I can see the hard ridge of his thick cock in his slacks, but it’s the shit-eating grin on his face that makes my heart stutter. He looks relaxed, confident, and calmer than I think I’ve ever seen him.
“Is this the part where you offer me a ride on your motorcycle?” I drop my eyes to his lap to indicate what I expect him to want me to ride.
He cups himself, shifting his cock to a more comfortable position in his slacks. “No, this is the part where we bask in the afterglow of that glorious orgasm of yours. And once we’ve done that justice, we’ll get back to work.”
I blink, surprised at his answer. “That actually sounds like a great plan,” I confess, not ready to move yet. “Reluctantly.”
I curl into Carson’s side, my head on his shoulder. It feels good to just be for a moment, still and steady as we relax and catch our breaths. I try to close my eyes, but the blood rushing through my body is now redirecting to my brain and ideas are sparking like crazy.
“What if we do a laser light show? With those smell machines like they have on 4d rides where we pump out citrus scents with orange lights, fresh mowed grass with green, or ocean with blue? We could make each musical set have its own vibe with sensory additions beyond the music. And sell LED necklaces and bracelets to add to the rave effect? We need one of those drinks where the cotton candy melts into it—alcoholic and non-alcoholic versions for the younger crowd. And special edition Freddy Freebirds.”
My mouth is running at warp speed, but my brain is going even faster.
Carson sighs, and I look up, expecting him to be annoyed with my overzealousness. But he’s smiling happily. “Guess our afterglow moment is over? You know the first thing we have to do, though, right?”
I furrow my brows. “Write up a bullet point list to go over with Spencer and Kyleigh?”
He shakes his head. “Talk to my father.”
“Shit,” I say.